That afternoon, I force myself to take a shower and then pad into the kitchen for a glass of water. Nona and Trudy sit at the table, slicing cucumbers and tomatoes and dumping them into a plastic bowl.
“Before you say anything, I know I was terrible to Mia,” I tell Nona. “And I’ll apologize to her tomorrow.”
Nona sighs and gets up from the table, opening the refrigerator to pull out a sandwich. “Turkey, your favorite. And I’m glad you’re going to apologize to Mia, but I owe you an apology, too.” She tugs at the cashmere scarf looped around her neck and gives me a sad smile. “Ever since Karina and Mia moved here last year, I kept hoping you would bond with Mia. But I think I wanted everyone to get along so badly that I never gave your feelings the consideration they deserved. Karina’s my daughter, and I’m glad she’s on a good path now. But that doesn’t change how much she let you down, and I know that better than anyone.”
She places a hand on my arm and squeezes, and I’m surprised by the tears that spring to my eyes. “Mia wasn’t the right target, but you had every reason to say what you said. I’m sorry for trying to push a relationship with her and your mother on you. I’m going to try to respect your boundaries moving forward.”
My grandmother takes me into her arms, and I breathe in the familiar scent of Chanel No. 5.
“What did you say to Mia?” Trudy asks, always one for gossip.
Nona and I both roll our eyes at her, but before I can reply with a witty retort, the doorbell rings.
“I’ll get it,” Nona says, patting my arm. “You eat your sandwich.”
She waltzes off to answer the door, and I pour myself a glass of water and watch as Trudy, wearing a collared vest with a polyester kitten on it, resumes slicing vegetables.
“Um, Lucy?” Nona calls after a moment. “It’s for you.”
It’s probably Karina and Mia again, and I’m grateful for a chance to apologize to Mia. I carry my sandwich down the hallway and into the foyer, but I almost drop it when I see who’s waiting for me.
It’s Kai.
“Hi,” he says, running a hand through his hair as Nona stares at him as if Harrison Ford just appeared in our home.
“Who is it?” Trudy calls, barreling after me down the hallway in her cat vest. She freezes when she sees Kai. “Holy fuckballs!”
“We’ll leave you two alone,” Nona says, giving me a sly wink as she grabs a protesting Trudy by the elbow and leads her back toward the kitchen.
Once they’re gone, I cross my arms over my chest and wish I weren’t holding a half-eaten turkey sandwich. With pale circles under his eyes and a wrinkled T-shirt, Kai looks like he hasn’t slept much in days, and the part of me that was falling in love with him wants to take him into my arms. But the sting of betrayal I feel when I look at him stops me.
“I know you said you didn’t want to see me, but I had to come by and tell you how sorry I am,” Kai says, his hazel eyes meeting mine. “And to bring you this.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flash drive, holding it out toward me. “It’s the footage of you and Zuri.”
I shake my head in disgust. “That’s the last thing I’d ever want to see. I lived through that pain once. I don’t need to watch it again.”
“You don’t have to watch if you don’t want to,” Kai says. “But if you do, I don’t think pain is the only thing you’ll see.”
When I don’t reach out to accept the drive, he sets it on Nona’s oak entry cabinet, along with a paper bag.
“I brought you Diet Coke and a cinnamon roll, too,” he says, nodding toward the bag. “That sounds pretty stupid now that I say it out loud.” He thrusts his hands into his pockets and studies me. “I’m so sorry that I hurt you, Lucy. And I miss you. And I really, really hope we can work things out.”
Then, without another word, he leaves.
I leave the flash drive but take the cinnamon roll and the Diet Coke, because it’s not their fault my life’s in shambles. Around eight thirty, I’m back in my bed, watching my fifth episode of Breaking Amish, when Nona knocks on my door again.
“Lucy?” she asks, entering without waiting for an answer. “Has Mia called you?”
I shake my head. She’s never called me; I’ve never given her my number. “Why?”
Nona sighs. “She told Karina she was going to watch Netflix in her room around five, and Karina just went to check on her, but she’s not there. She’s not anywhere at home, and she’s not here, and Karina’s freaking out.”
“Mia’s missing?” I push my covers off. “Where would she have gone?”
“Karina’s not sure. She called all of Mia’s friends’ parents, but she’s not at any of their houses, and Alfie’s driving around looking for her now.”
Guilt fills my belly. If Mia got so upset by my outburst that she ran off, she could be in danger. And it’s all my fault.
“I’m gonna drive to Handel’s and see if Mia got it into her head to take herself out for ice cream,” Nona says. “I’ll call you if I hear anything.”
I nod, stunned, but she’s already gone. Mia is missing? I roll out of bed and grab a pair of shorts to slide over my underwear, and when I slip them on, I notice Mia’s backpack on the floor. Not sure what I’m looking for, I grab it and riffle through its contents. There’s a phone charger and a pair of headphones, a sheet of cupcake stickers, and a half-eaten bag of Cheez-Its. I also find her JoJo Siwa notebook, and I open the first page to see that she’s scribbled MIA’S NOTEBOOK. STAY OUT!!! in threatening red pencil.
Now doubly guilty for invading her privacy on top of yelling at her, I flip past drawings of Dynamite until I find a page simply marked LUCY. I feel like the worst human on earth when I see that Mia’s doodled pictures of the two of us, with matching smiles and unruly hair, doing things we’ve never done together: Strolling around the zoo. Visiting Cinderella’s Castle at Disney World. Riding what I think are supposed to be horses but look more like gigantic chunky hamsters.
Lucy’s Likes, she’s written on one page, followed by a list: Gorillas. Kai Bridges’ mom. Strawberry chunk ice cream. Research. Fairy bread. Khaki. Dynamite (sometimes). On the next page, titled Dislikes, she’s written: Girl Scouts. Voice lessons. Kai Bridges. Licorice. Hats. Dynamite (sometimes). It’s a preteen’s field guide to Lucy Rourke, and the realization that Mia’s paid such close attention to me, even when I dismissed her attempts to hang out or develop any kind of sisterly bond, breaks my heart. I certainly didn’t deserve how Karina treated me all those years ago, but maybe I don’t deserve Mia, either.
I continue flipping through the pages, finding a chunk titled Mia’s Nature Adventures. She’s drawn a sketch of the weeping willow tree that separates Nona’s backyard from the stretch of forest behind it, and suddenly I have an idea. If Mia’s as much like me as I think she is—and our equally untamed hair, soft bellies, and weird childhood notebooks indicate that she is—then I might know where to find her.
I traipse past the willow tree, careful to avoid a mound of poison ivy. I haven’t explored the woods behind Nona’s since I was a teenager, but except for new overgrowth and a stash of dirty cigarette butts under a maple tree, it’s the same as I remember. I stroll along for a quarter mile, passing a babbling brook and a fallen tree sprouting mushrooms, and sure enough, when I reach the small clearing where I did my most successful “gorilla tracking” as a kid, I spot Mia sitting on a log, a Nintendo Switch resting on her lap. Dynamite lies beside her, eating a chunk of grass.
“Mia!” I call.
Her brow furrows in confusion when she sees me, as if she has no idea how I found her secret hiding place. As if it’s not a four-minute walk from our grandmother’s house.
“Hey,” I say, stopping beside her. “Mind if I join you on your log?”
She shrugs, and I plop down next to her.
“How’d you find me?” she asks, like I tracked her across the Atlantic Ocean.
“Well, this used to be one of my favorite hangout spots when I was your age. I haven’t been in a while, but it’s held up pretty well.”
We’re quiet for a minute, listening to the hum of cicadas and the singing of birds and Dynamite’s deafening panting.
“I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” I tell her. “I was upset, and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have.”
She pushes a curl out of her eyes. “Is it true there’s no Rainbow Bridge?”
“Honestly? I have no idea. There might be. I don’t know any more than you do.”
“But you’re all grown up,” Mia says.
I can’t help but smile. “A lot of the time, grown-ups don’t actually know more than kids. In fact, a lot of the time we know less.”
She nods, as if this is just confirmation of what she already suspected. “Do you think I’ll see Pinecone again?”
I reach out to pet Dynamite, who’s making a valiant attempt to eat my shoelaces. “I don’t know. I hope so. And I hope to see Zuri again one day, but I’d be lying if I said I knew for sure.”
She nudges Dynamite away from my shoe. “Is it true what you said about Mom? That she’s a liar?”
I take a deep breath. “It’s true that when I was your age, Karina—Mom—made a lot of mistakes. But people can change, I guess, and it seems like she has. She loves you a whole lot, Mia. And she’s not going to ditch you.”
I have no guarantee of that, but as I say the words aloud, I realize I really do believe them. It’s part of why I’ve been so jealous of Mia all this time.
“She loves you, too, you know,” Mia says, turning to face me. “She tells me all the time.”
“She does?” I ask, surprised by the ball of emotion that swells in my throat.
Mia nods. “Did you think she didn’t? Is that why you don’t like us?”
It’s a sincere, simple question, and I try to give her the same kind of answer. “I felt very hurt for a very long time, but that has nothing to do with you. I like you just fine, Mia, and I’m sorry I haven’t let myself love you the way you deserve. But I’d like to work on that, if you’ll let me.”
“Really?” she asks, her face lighting up like I announced that I’m joining her Junior Girl Scout troop.
“Really. After all, you’re the only sister I’ve got.”
She pokes a stick with her foot. “Do you think you’ll work on loving Mom, too?”
I give her my honest answer. “I don’t know. Maybe one day we’ll get there. But in the meantime, I’d really like to stop by one of your Girl Scout meetings and talk about gorillas. If you want me to.”
“Seriously?” Mia asks, her voice rising several decibels. “Um, yes! That would be so cool. None of the other girls’ siblings have cool jobs. Olivia’s sister is a boring old Target cashier.”
Olivia’s sister is probably also sixteen, but I don’t point that out. “Nona and Mom are worried about you. What do you think about heading home?”
She shrugs. “I just wanted some time alone, but it is getting dark. Plus, my Switch battery is about to die.”
As if that settles it, she clambers up from the log and grabs Dynamite’s leash. I follow them past the mushroom-ridden tree and the weeping willow and through Nona’s backyard, and I take my little sister home.